‘Not necessary.’ Miller drops a lazy kiss on my lips and rises, the shift pushing his h*ps into my lower stomach. My eyes widen and moisture bombards my centre. Now that I have emptied my mind of unwanted burdens, there’s room for something else. Something appealing.
Desire.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I reach up to his shoulders and smooth down the sleeves of his suit jacket, the feel of tight muscle beneath only heightening my growing wanton state. He shakes his head slowly, definitely, unwaveringly, and I deflate on an annoyed huff of breath. ‘Control yourself, then.’ I tip my h*ps up and spike a sharp inhale of breath from him, followed up with a poor attempt to scowl at me. I grin and repeat. Of course, this only teases me further, too, but Miller’s struggle to contain himself ignites a childish rebellion in me. I flip up again and watch on a laugh as he jumps off the bed and starts brushing himself down and pulling at his jacket.
‘Really, Olivia?’
I sit up, a wicked grin on my face. ‘It’s always on your terms,’ I state, resting my chin in my palm and my elbow on my knee. He’s still busy rearranging himself, choosing to answer without looking at me.
‘It’s a good job, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘It’s polite to look at someone when they’re talking to you.’
Frantic hands halt in their fussing and an impassive face slowly rises to mine. ‘It’s a good job, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Images of a gym, a paint studio, and cars jump all over my mind. At least there’s a bed here. And it’s my bedroom. I slide off the mattress and pace slowly and purposely over to him. He watches me, standing silently, almost cautiously, until my chest is pushed into his. I lift my eyes to his mouth. Hot, lusty air streams from parted lips, fuelling my hunger, swelling my confidence. ‘I won’t make it through dinner,’ I warn, flicking my eyes to his.
‘I won’t disrespect your grandmother, Olivia.’
My eyes narrow and a conniving hand stretches forward and brushes over his groin. He jumps back. I move forward. ‘Don’t be so uptight.’
Strong hands circle my upper arms and a face full of frustration lowers to mine. ‘No,’ he says simply.
‘Yes,’ I retort, struggling out of his hold and cupping him over his trousers. ‘You’re the one who’s unleashed this need, so you’re under obligation to remedy it.’
‘Fucking hell!’
I inwardly cheer, knowing I have him. He can’t make me endure another dinner at Nan’s table when I’m in this condition. I’ll spontaneously combust. ‘Loosen up.’
‘Give me strength, Olivia.’ He knocks my hand away from his groin and tackles me to the bed, the frame squeaking, the headboard smacking the wall behind. My victory fills me with unreasonable pride. My lips press together and my eyes clench shut as he circles deliciously into me, the friction having me trying to shift my legs beneath him to alleviate the pressure building between my thighs. My actions earn me more restraint. He nails my wrists to the mattress. ‘You want me?’ he breathes in my face, gently thrusting forward, pushing the bated breath from my lungs. I cry out, my eyes flying open. Dark lashes greet me, framing intoxicating blues. ‘Don’t make me ask you again.’
‘Yes!’ I yelp at the delivery of another calculated thrust, feeling him solid beneath the material of his trousers. Dizziness overwhelms me and the room starts spinning wildly, yet Miller’s perfect face is still perfectly clear before me. ‘Miller,’ I pant, loving and hating his control over my body all at once.
Smug satisfaction plagues his features. And then he pushes himself off me and sets about sorting his suit out again. ‘Come. Your grandmother has gone to a lot of trouble.’
My mouth falls open in utter disbelief. ‘You’re not . . .’
‘Oh, I am.’ He collects me from the bed and begins to make me look presentable while I stand unequivocally dumbstruck by his underhanded game. He’s solid. It must be painful, because I know that I’m suffering. He brushes my wild hair over each shoulder, looking satisfied with the result. ‘Your cheeks are flushed,’ he says, his voice loaded with smugness.
‘How—’ His finger meets my lips to hush me before he replaces it with his lips, escalating my sexed-up condition. ‘Just think how much more you’ll enjoy me later when I can take my time with you.’
‘You’re unbelievably cruel,’ I whimper, throwing my arms around his neck and tackling his wonderful mouth, desperate to get all I can before he wrestles me off him.
He doesn’t prise me away, instead lifting me from my feet and carrying me to the door while returning my kiss, accepting my tongue dancing wildly in his mouth and moaning his appreciation as he does. In an attempt to trap him further, I curl my thighs around his tight h*ps and arch my spine, sealing our chests and balling my fists in his hair. I hum, I whimper, I sigh. My head tilts, my mouth tracks the lines of his lips, and my teeth bite down in between plunges of my tongue. This isn’t improving my thirst, but if it’s all I’m getting for the time being, then I’m making the most of it. My eyes are closed and Miller’s palms are cupping my bottom, squeezing, massaging and smoothing as he takes the stairs down to the hallway. My time’s running out.
‘Olivia,’ he pants, breaking our mouth contact.
‘Nuh-uh,’ I moan, pushing into the back of his head, reattaching my lips to his.
‘Jesus, you’re ruining me.’
Through my dizziness, I register the stupidity of such a statement. ‘Take me to your place,’ I beg, knowing I’m pleading in vain. Miller’s far too polite to stand my grandmother up. I can smell a hearty meal, something stodgy simmering upon the stove, and I hear Nan singing chirpily in the kitchen.
‘She’s gone to too much trouble.’ He peels me away from his suit and sets me on my feet, tugging my top into place. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ His eyes drop to my too-flat stomach.
‘Not really,’ I concede. There’s no room in my brain to register hunger.
‘We need to resolve this appetite issue,’ he quips curtly, ‘before you disappear before my eyes.’
‘There’s no issue.’ I reach up and take Miller’s tie, jiggling with the dislodged knot for a short time before I’m happy that it’s straight and tidy. ‘I eat when I’m hungry.’
‘Which is when?’ He throws me an expectant look as he removes his jacket and hangs it on the coat hooks before he turns into the mirror and undoes what I’ve just spent thirty seconds of my time perfecting. His back broadens with the position of his hands at his neck, the material of his waistcoat pulling taut. I sigh my appreciation. ‘We need to get you to the doctor’s.’
His statement yanks me back to the here and now, having me look up to a serious face. ‘I’ve been,’ I whisper.
He can’t hide his shock. I love that I can spike all of these emotions from him, but not now. ‘You went without me?’
My shoulders jump up a little, displaying detachment. ‘The receptionist said it’s best to take the morning-after pill as soon as possible, and they only had an available appointment this morning.’
‘Oh.’ He drops his hands from his tie, looking uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t want you to have to do it alone, Olivia.’
‘I swallowed a pill.’ I smile, trying to lighten him up. He feels guilty.
‘And birth control?’
‘Done.’
‘Have you started?’
‘On the first day of my next period.’ I definitely remember that part, but not much else.
‘Which is when?’
I mentally sprint through my cycle, frowning to myself. ‘Three weeks.’ This won’t please him. I only just had a period while Miller was . . . absent.
‘Excellent,’ he says, all formal, like he’s just secured a profitable business deal. I roll my eyes and ignore his inquisitive look.
‘And before you ask, yes, there’s a need for insolence.’
His lips purse and his blistering blue eyes narrow slightly. ‘Sass,’ he whispers, making me smile. ‘I would have come.’
‘I’m a big girl.’ I brush off his concern with ease, despite it being entirely his fault that I wound up in that position. It won’t happen again. ‘And, anyway, you did come.’ I grin, trying to ease his guilt. ‘Inside me.’
He matches my grin. ‘Double sass.’
Footsteps interrupt us and Nan appears, her jolly face jollier than normal, and I know it’s because Miller is here and he’s agreed to let her feed him. ‘Hotpot!’ she sings, delighted. ‘I didn’t have time for anything more extravagant.’
Miller rips his eyes from mine and pivots on his expensive shoes. Nan’s delight increases, even if she’s lost the lovely view of Miller’s buns. ‘I’m sure that whatever you’ve decided on, it’ll be just perfect, Mrs Taylor.’
She flaps a tea towel at Miller, all bashful and giggly. ‘I’ve laid the table in the kitchen.’
‘Had I known we’d be eating together, I would have brought something,’ Miller says, taking my nape and encouraging me to follow Nan to the kitchen.
‘Nonsense!’ Nan laughs. ‘Besides, I still have the champagne and the caviar.’
‘With hotpot?’ I ask on a frown.
‘No, but I doubt Miller would have brought a barrel of cheap ale to slurp.’ Nan flips her hand, indicating a chair. ‘Sit.’
My chair is pulled out for me and tucked back under once I’ve taken my seat. His mouth meets my ear. ‘How fast can you eat hotpot?’
I ignore him and concentrate on soaking up the heat of his breath in my ear, probably a stupid thing to do, but it doesn’t matter how fast I can eat because Miller’s manners prevent him from scoffing down food.
He takes his seat next to me and gives me a salacious smirk, just as a huge pot lands in the centre of the table. I inhale the smell of meat, veggies and potatoes. And grimace. I’m not in the least bit hungry, only for the infuriating male seated next to me.
‘Where has George got to?’ Nan gripes, looking impatiently down at her watch. ‘He’s five minutes late.’
‘George is joining us?’ Miller asks, nodding at the steaming pot, his instruction for me to dive in. ‘It’ll be nice to see him again.’
‘Hmmm, it’s not like him to be late.’
She’s right. He’s usually sitting at the table armed with his knife and fork in plenty of time to be the first into the pot. Unfortunately, I get the pleasure today. I take the serving spoon with as much enthusiasm as I feel and plunge it into the middle, wafting the smell into the air surrounding us.
‘Smells delicious,’ Miller informs Nan, keeping his eyes on me. I’m not sure how much I can stomach, but with Nan and Miller both taking a vested interest in my eating habits, I’m destined to struggle my way through a whole bowl.
The chime of the doorbell saves me. ‘I’ll get it.’ I drop the spoon and lift my bum from the chair, only to be pushed back down.
‘Allow me,’ Miller interjects, taking the serving spoon and transferring a heaped spoonful into my dish before he makes off down the hallway.
‘Thank you, Miller,’ Nan croons, smiling brightly. ‘Such a gentleman.’
‘Some of the time,’ I mutter under my breath, collecting the serving spoon and piling Miller’s bowl high until it’s near to overflowing.
‘Is he hungry?’ Nan asks, her old eyes following the spoon travelling back and forth from the pot to Miller’s dish.
‘Starving,’ I declare, silently smug.
‘Save some for George. He’ll blow a gasket if he doesn’t get at least two helpings.’ She peeks into the pot, noting the remaining contents.